Something Important to Say
by mahc
Summary: JED-ABBEY Post-ep for Manchester - the limo scene on the way to the announcement of Jed's re-election campaign. What might have happened.


Author: MAHC Title: Something Important to Say Character: Jed Category: Romance/Post-Eps Pairing: Jed/Abbey Rating: PG-13 Summary: In the midst of the MS crisis and decision to run for re- election, how strained has Jed and Abbey's relationship become?  
  
Author's Notes: This is a mid- and post-ep for Manchester 1 and 2. I so wanted to see more of their conversation in the limo!  
  
Something Important to Say A West Wing Story  
  
By: MAHC  
  
POV: Jed Spoilers: Manchester 1 & 2 Rating: PG-13 Disclaimer: These are not my characters (although I feel as if they are).  
  
"There's something important I have to say."  
  
President Jed Bartlet turned to look at his wife seated beside him in the limousine. Although his heart pounded, he managed to keep a casual expression. "Say it," he prompted when she didn't continue automatically.  
  
"I haven't really made up my mind yet – but, at the moment, I'm leaning towards voting for you." The small glimmer of a smile that accompanied her words heartened him like nothing had in the past weeks, not even the satisfying ovation that Nancy McNally had led in the situation room.  
  
He was afraid to show his true feelings, the burst of exhilaration that threatened to erupt. He wasn't sure he could stop the flow once it started and they were only minutes away from officially announcing his bid for re- election to hundreds of supporters in person and the rest of America on television. Instead, he smiled slightly and nodded, not trusting himself to acknowledge verbally. On impulse, he reached for her hand and was relieved when she allowed his fingers to rest over hers gently.  
  
They rode on for a moment in silence before he felt her move and fought off a sudden panic that she was pulling away. Her fingers slid from beneath his and he closed his eyes with a sigh at the end of their brief reunion, but even as the depression closed on him further, both of her hands twined around his and squeezed. The joy that leaped in his heart pushed tears to his eyes and he turned to look at her. As soon as she saw his expression, her own eyes clouded.  
  
"Jed—"she began.  
  
"Oh, God, Abbey," he breathed in a rush. "I am so sorry. I am sorry about—"  
  
She shook her head and reached for him, her mouth on his silencing him. He didn't hesitate, but drew her close and kissed her with desire and passion he had suppressed for weeks. Something seemed to let go, then, between them. The hard wall that had gone up started to crumble, and Abbey choked back a sob as she pressed him against the seat and door, hugging him to her, her tears wetting his shirt. For a moment they lay there, savoring the feeling of holding each other again.  
  
But it had been so long, too long, since they had been together, that Jed found himself unable to fight down the physical reaction to her touch. He knew that she must have felt it, too, because she raised her head and looked at him, her eyes smoldering. Then, he groaned involuntarily as she lowered her head and kissed him again, encouraging him by arching her hips into his.  
  
"Oh, Abbey," he breathed, with both relief and desire, then thought absently, Thank goodness the windows are tinted, as he slid his hands under her coat to caress her breasts.  
  
The sound of her sensuous moan pushed him further away from reason. He clutched at her, afraid that she might disappear if he let go, and she responded just as aggressively. His hands ran over her body, pulling her harder against him, fitting their hips together so she could feel just how much he wanted her. Her fingers tore at his tie, opened his shirt, and pushed across his chest. Gasping, he rubbed against her, passion and desire threatening to overwhelm him.  
  
"Abbey," he groaned, as her right hand ran through his hair and her left trailed over his groin. He knew he was only seconds from totally losing control and that realization somehow broke through the fading logic cells of his brain to the ignited erogenous cells.  
  
"Abbey," he tried valiantly as her tongue dragged across his chest. He heard himself moan again and couldn't keep from pushing into her hand. He made another feeble attempt, knowing if it didn't work, all of America would have to wait for their First Couple to go back home to change clothes. "Abbey—"  
  
Suddenly, she bolted upright, shock on her face, staring at him, her dark hair wildly disarrayed. "Dear God! What are we doing?"  
  
He smiled. "Well, it's been awhile, but I'm pretty sure we are—"  
  
She looked out the window. "We're almost there! Look at me!" Her gaze dropped to his lap. "Look at you!" Her eyes glared at him, but there was no malice. "Josiah Bartlet, how could you let me get so carried away?" she accused.  
  
He grinned and drew her back down, running his fingers over her jaw and kissing her again. "You want me to tell Coop to circle around the block?"  
  
She smiled against his mouth, then eased her head onto his chest. They lay there for a moment, trying to get their breathing under control.  
  
"I love you, Abbey," he said, stroking her hair. "I love you more than I love anything else in this world. I can't do any of this without you, Abbey. Any of it."  
  
She raised her head, reached a hand up and tried to comb his hair back into place, only partially succeeding. The car slowed and turned into the school drive. "I love you, Jed. I'll always love you, even when you're a jackass."  
  
He nodded. It was enough.  
  
When they exited the car, his shirt was buttoned again, his tie straight, his hair smoothed back almost the way it had been. He walked closely behind her, still struggling with his body to calm down. Abbey's hair showed only a little evidence of their recent activity. They assumed the mantle of dignity appropriate for the President of the United States and the First Lady. Nevertheless, Jed caught the curious glance from C.J. as he casually smoothed the upturned lapel on Abbey's jacket. He startled his press secretary with a quick wink and laughed silently at her pleased shock.  
  
Later, after he had delivered his long-overdue apology to his staff, he stood at the entrance to the stage and watched his wife introduce him. As expected, she gave a rousing speech and, on cue, he strode out into the crisp morning amid the spirited notes of the band and exuberant cheers of the crowd.  
  
He had not planned on kissing her; it was not in the script - C. J. certainly had not dared to suggest such a thing after her disastrous confrontations with the First Couple at the Manchester house. Now, however, it seemed the most natural thing to do. When he reached the front of the platform, he slipped his arms around his wife. She had been clapping along with everyone else and her hands automatically moved to his face in his embrace. Their lips met and he made sure she knew it was not for publicity, even though his mind registered the immediate increase in the volume of the cheers. Finally, a pointed throat clearing from one of his staff reminded him he had other things to do. Toby, he chuckled. Reluctantly, he withdrew.  
  
"We'll take the scenic route on the way home," he promised in a whisper before he straightened completely. For a moment he held Abbey's gaze. He saw nothing there but love, support, and an intriguing spark of desire. They would talk later. They might yell again later, but he knew that they had turned the corner of this personal crisis.  
  
He switched his focus to the citizens that had gathered for him there, now screaming in delight at the unexpected public show of affection between their leader and his wife. He knew that his making up with Abbey was only the start. He had to make up with the people, too. C. J. smiled encouragement from behind them, and he smiled back, hoping she could read some of what he felt in that simple expression. Abbey's hand clutched his firmly as they stood, waving to the people, facing America. There was something important he had to say. 


End file.
